


What the Future Holds

by EverythingandAnything



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kingsman Fusion, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Don't copy to another site, Guns, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 07:51:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20862779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverythingandAnything/pseuds/EverythingandAnything
Summary: When Trainee Guang-Hong Ji finally becomes a fully fledged Agent, the last thing he expects on his very first mission is a bloodier repeat of his training days. Of course, with the beloved mentor who's seen him through thick and thin by his side, there's nothing that they can't handle together, right?That is, if certain feelings don't get in the way first.





	What the Future Holds

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there everyone! Sorry for the long absence, but I can finally reveal what I've been working on! 
> 
> It was an absolute joy to write for the yoispyzine, so please go check out everyone else's pieces in the collection!

When the first would-be assassin bursts in through a window and sends shards of glass flying everywhere, Trainee Guang-Hong Ji just so happens to be sitting on his dormitory bed, and in the process of taking out his assigned pistol to clean. Of course, being a pistol assigned to a trainee agent, the gun itself only contains blanks, but caught in the heat of the moment, Guang-Hong doesn’t care as he lines up the target in his sights and fires off a perfect shot straight into their chest, the scent of gunpowder threatening to draw a sneeze from his nose. It’s when the figure begins stumbling backwards with a muffled groan of pain, that the rest of his training kicks in. Before he realises it, Guang-Hong is leaping off of his mattress with a war-cry that would have made his late gong-gong proud, the back of his gun meeting his assailant’s jaw with a sickening crack as he straddles their chest.

“Intruder! Help! Intruder! Intruder! To your positions!”

Behind him, the pitter-patter of bare feet on linoleum grow louder, only to be cut off by a yelp and a scream as the second window of the shared dormitory shatters. Out of the corner of his eye, Guang-Hong spots Trainee Minami scrambling away to put space between him and the onslaught of assailants that come barrelling into the room. _Why on earth do we need two windows here? We’re underground!_

Beneath him, the intruder’s second groan is barely audible beneath the din of shouts, roars, and clanging metal and plastic, and Guang-Hong gulps before tightening his grip around his pistol and whipping it across their jaw again. _It really is different hitting a person rather than a training dummy-_

“IT’S J.J. STYLE!”

A bed collapses beside him with an echoing _clang_, and only Guang-Hong’s training keeps him still as another one of their attackers drops in a slumped heap over the metal frames, Trainee Leroy posing triumphantly over them. “We can take them! There’s more of us than there is of them!”

_He’s right_, Guang-Hong thinks as he carefully stumbles to his feet, his fingers already white from their hold around his gun. _Maybe they thought they could take us __out because we’re only trainees?_ He readjusts his grip with a grimace, before raising the pistol once again. _We’ll show them exactly what we can do._

When the last of the attackers is taken down with a kick, a clattering of plastic, and another cry of “IT’S J.J. STYLE!”, the dormitory falls blissfully silent, save for the sound of their heaving pants, the scent of gunpowder now thoroughly overwhelming that of bleach, sweat, and laundry detergent. Across the room, Trainee Minami yelps as one of the downed assailants begins to stir with a faint hum, scrambling to their feet to yank them into a headlock. “They’re regaining consciousness!”

The first attacker trembles from beside him, and Guang-Hong follows suit, his legs threatening to collapse beneath him as he jumps down from one of the remaining intact beds to straddle their chest again, his bangs sticking to his sweat-streaked forehead despite his efforts to blow them away. “Do we have anything to tie them up with?”

Trainee Altin hums, before turning to the closest bed and stripping it of its coverings, using one of them to wipe at his face. “We have our blankets and our sheets. They will suffice, I believe.”

Like clockwork, those not restraining an assailant go around collecting materials for their makeshift ties, and Guang-Hong’s shoulders finally relax as the last knot is tied and secured around the arms of his attacker, his chest heaving from the force of his exhale when he finally releases his breath. “Okay, now what?”

Guang-Hong yelps as the P.A. system comes to life with a resounding screech, before Ginger Ale’s voice cuts through the raucous of shouts. “Congratulations trainees. You all just passed your first pop quiz. And all without a single casualty as well!”

Even through the tinny speakers, the grin in their voice is obvious, “Also, thank you for providing us with the wonderful opportunity to test out our newest backup security personnel! Just like the real thing, aren’t they?”

The main entrance to the dormitories opens with a whoosh, and Guang-Hong immediately straightens his back as Ginger Ale strolls into the room, their trademark black baseball cap matching perfectly with their unbuttoned flannel, black tank top, and ripped skinny jeans. “I must say, we were all most impressed with your handling of this situation.”

One of the people trailing behind Ginger Ale steps forward, and warmth floods Guang-Hong’s face as Agent Cider steps forward into the light, tipping his Stenson hat with a quirk of his mouth. “You did us all proud, trainees. On behalf of all of your mentors, we would like to congratulate you on a job well done.”

In the dimly lit corridor behind Agent Cider and Ginger Ale, the echoes of loud applause and whoops break out, and Guang-Hong ducks his head, giggling softly when Agent Cider winks at him. “However, we would especially like to congratulate Trainee Altin for his improvisation skills, and Trainee Leroy for dispatching so many of the enemy forces in such a timely manner.”

The softness in Agent Cider’s eyes grows with his smile, and the muscles of Guang-Hong’s chest tighten as he steps closer, reaching out to ruffle at his hair. “And of course, special congratulations goes to Trainee Ji here for his timely thinking, his excellent marksmanship, and his actions in single-handedly taking out the first intruder.”

Before Guang-Hong can lean into the touch, Ginger Ale clears his throat, pulling a selfie stick from their belt to nudge at the remaining debris with a smirk too innocent to be accidental. “Hope you don’t mind sleeping rough tonight, trainees. It’s going to take a while to clean up this mess.”

* * *

_There’s no way that he isn’t doing this on purpose._

The silk of the shirt is smooth beneath Guang-Hong’s fingertips, the rosy red shade vivid against his pale skin, and he shivers as a familiar hand reaches up to undo another button, the cool air conditioning of the room raising goosebumps over his flesh, the new leather of his pants sticking uncomfortably to his skin, the air heavy with the scent of freshly applied makeup and cologne.

“So what is it that I have to do again?”

Across from him, Agent Cider hums as he parts the fabric to reveal more of Guang-Hong’s chest, stray strands of brown hair slipping free from his half-ponytail to brush against his eyes, their feet shuffling along to the haunting yet unfamiliar melody. “Simple, Trainee. You will be dropped off at the bar where you will proceed to identify and interact with your target. Remember what you’re looking for?”

Guang-Hong nods, face growing warm at Agent Cider’s small smile as he steps back, the squeaking of his leather shoes on the freshly sterile linoleum unbearably loud.

_How could I possibly forget? It's the final test, and if I pass..._

“Male, approximately my age, and slightly taller than me. Medium Build. Red rose pinned on the lapel of a golden yellow jacket. Matching golden gloves. Sitting alone at one of the bars.”

The smile grows wider, the flash of pearly white teeth sending Guang-Hong’s heart racing once more. “Good job, Trainee. You look good by the way.”

The unforgiving fluorescent lights only serve to highlight the light dusting of pink on Agent Cider’s cheeks, Guang-Hong’s breath leaving his body in a shaky giggle at the sight, one hand reaching up to scratch at his slicked back hair.

“No thanks to you.”

The dusting of pink spreads as Agent Cider clears his throat, fingers flexing at his sides as he saunters close once more, deep brown eyes pinning Guang-Hong in place.

“One last thing before you go: What is the objective of this mission?”

The hand cupping his cheek is gentle, a far cry from the same hands that had drilled him mercilessly only days earlier, and Guang-Hong sighs into the touch, eyes sliding shut as warmth fans across his lips.

“Obtain the information from the target in any way I wish.”

The barely-there pressure against his mouth is familiar in its teasing, and Guang-Hong hums at the light brushing against his bottom lip, the hand on his cheek sliding up to carefully cup at the nape of his neck as Agent Cider slowly pulls away. His eyes flicker down at the skin exposed by his shirt, and Guang-Hong gulps.

_He’s only preparing you for the task. Nothing more. It’s only training. It’s only training. It’s only training._

Nonetheless, the mantra doesn’t stop his heart from beating faster as Agent Cider reaches up to tug at his hair with a smile, the hiss of an opening door fading away when he leans in closer to whisper, “Good luck, Trainee Ji. I’ll see you on the other side.”

And just like that, another hand lands right between his shoulder blades and gently pushes him out into the cold unfeeling night.

* * *

_Breathe. They can’t possibly fail you now. Not after everything._

His worn sneakers are near silent on the wooden floor, the scent of sanitiser, bleach, and grain filling his lungs before his breath fogs the air in a shaky exhale. Behind him, the hulking door closes with the gentlest of clicks, a discrete beep chirping in Guang-Hong’s ear as he shuffles into the brewery, hulking barrels of whiskey on both sides of the aisle growing taller and taller with every step. From deep within the room, a generator starts to life with a soft rumble, its hums drowned almost immediately by the sharp clicking of boots, and Guang-Hong sucks in a slow breath, his right hand already yanking his switchblade out from his pocket.

“Good to see your reflexes are sharp even at this hour.”

Even separated by barriers of wood and alcohol, the smile in Agent Cider’s voice is obvious, his slow sauntering gait as familiar as that of his mother’s, and Guang-Hong snorts, slowly tucking his switchblade away, “You can’t even see me.”

The footsteps grow louder, deep blue and brown flashing in between the gaps of the barrels with every click.

“I don’t need to.”

Dressed in a deep blue plaid shirt, jeans, scuffed cowboy boots, his ever present cheekily crooked Stenson, and carrying a shotgun, Agent Cider is every inch the cowboy from the old Western movies of Guang-Hong’s youth as he steps around the corner of the aisle, his grin and laughing eyes bringing a blush to Guang-Hong’s cheeks when he slowly looks over him. _Is the denim jacket too much? I knew I should have worn the ripped jeans! Maybe I tied the handkerchief wrong? Does he think that I look-_

“Whatever happened to remaining on your guard until you got clear confirmation of your ally?”

_Oh. Shit._

“I, um. I heard your voice.”

Agent Cider raises an eyebrow, his mouth hardening into a flat line, the sight enough to make Guang-Hong stand straighter. “What about voice manipulation technology?”

Guang-Hong gulps, “There...didn’t appear to be any signs of that. No delay, no static.” He forces a swallow down his suddenly dry throat when Agent Cider’s expression remains unchanged. “Not to mention HQ should have countermeasures to prevent imposters from using such devices. Right?”

Agent Cider chuckles, beckoning him closer with a shake of his head. “I’m just teasing you; I’m actually touched that you trust me enough to lower your weapon at just the sound of my voice.”

Guang-Hong rolls his eyes, his teeth digging into his lower lip as Agent Cider wraps an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer, their footsteps falling into rhythm with one another, “Of course I trust you. You’re my...you’re my mentor after all.”

Agent Cider snorts, “Some mentor I must be to get us sidetracked from official business. Now come on, I booked us in for Tasting Room 3.”

Guang-Hong frowns, the growing sight of the three carved into a worn door sending his heart into overdrive. “What’s wrong with the other ones?”  
The beating of his heart increases for a wholly different reason at Agent Cider’s wink as he readjusts his grip around his shotgun to press his fingers to the underside of the doorknob. “Only the best for my mentee.”

“Traditionally, Champagne is the one to assign the names but,” Agent Cider’s lips curl up into a shy smile, one that sends more warmth flooding through Guang-Hong’s veins than the sip of alcohol they had shared earlier, “since this is a new position, I managed to...persuade him to make an exception for one of our youngest and most promising agents.”

All the lessons about “A Good Agent Revealing Nothing” fly out of Guang-Hong’s mind as he bounces on the balls of his feet, his face and ears aching with the force of his grin and barely contained squeal. “Really? You did that for me? Thank you so much!”

Agent Cider laughs, the pads of his fingers rough against Guang-Hong’s face as he reaches out to pinch the skin of his cheek. “Of course I did it for you! Now, what’s this poison you’ve been teasing me about then, Agent? No need to hold back.”

Guang-Hong grins, the deep browns of the wood panelling around him falling away as he closes his eyes, the sharp scent of disinfectant and aged wood fading to that of ginger, meat, and steaming rice.

_“Please, Gong-Gong! I’m eighteen! I’m a big boy now!”_

_His Gong-Gong laughs, the sound breaking through the raucous caused by his younger cousins at their video game in the middle of the packed apartment, and the loud cackling chatter of the other adults around them as they help to clear away the last of the dishes from the birthday feast. Guang-Hong pouts. “Gong-gong! Ah Ma will be back soon!”_

_“Are you really sure, Guang-Guang? Do you remember what I told you?”_

_Guang-Hong nods, his bangs flopping into his eyes as he snatches at the little glass cup held just out of his reach. _

_“Alright then! But one sip only, okay?”_

_The cup is pressed carefully into his hands, and Guang-Hong raises it to his lips without a second thought. He grimaces at the taste, a slow heat spreading down his throat as he slowly swallows it. “That’s not too-”_

_He chokes as the heat suddenly intensifies into a sharp burn, the ravaging fire spreading to his stomach as he bends over double at the waist, catching snatches of his Gong-Gong’s booming laugh in between his heaving gasps and coughs. “Packs a punch, doesn’t it, Guang?” A hand rubs gently at his back, and Guang-Hong sucks in another breath. “Never underestimate the power of a tiny little cup and its contents.”_

Guang-Hong opens his eyes, meeting Agent Cider’s raised eyebrow with his best imitation. “Maotai. Agent Maotai.”

Agent Cider grins, “Welcome, Agent Maotai. Pleased to officially meet you.” Guang-Hong gulps, the phantom heat from the memory flaring up again in his stomach as he reaches out to shake Agent Cider’s waiting hand.

“Pleased to officially meet you too, Agent Cider.”

If possible, Agent Cider’s grin grows wider before he tugs Guang-Hong into a tight hug, his warmth enveloping him as warmly as a homemade blanket, and Guang-Hong shivers as lips brush against his temple. “I can’t wait to see what your future holds.”

* * *

The future apparently holds a spectacular sense of déjà vu when another assailant breaks in through another window, this time, one belonging to a small rundown motel in the middle of nowhere. The future, apparently also likes Guang-Hong enough to spare him the tiniest bit of luck, seeing as he just so happens to be sitting on the floor beside the bed and mostly hidden by the shitty mattress when the windows slowly creak open, the faint scent of dusty dirt and dead grass growing stronger. Downstairs, he can hear the furious shouted conversation between the proprietress and another customer, but all worries about concealment and secrecy fall away from his mind as the figure climbs into the room, their gun and holster all too visible in the light of the lone lamp, and Guang-Hong hastily drops the USB onto the thinning carpet as he scrambles for the pistol beside him and aims. One silenced gunshot, several blood splatters, and a final decisive thump later, the shower shuts off suddenly in the ensuite, the calming melody of Agent Cider’s voice filtering through the gaps in the door replaced by a hesitant grunt. “Baby, was that room service?”

_Right! Our cover! The code!_

From his position beside the corpse, Guang-Hong gulps and nods, before slapping himself on the forehead. “Um, yes. The meal appears to be cold. Really cold. I don’t think reheating it is going to do any good.”

Steam billows into the room like something out of his mother’s soap operas, and Agent Cider is beside him in an instant, his lasoo already retracting back into its handle as his free hand hurriedly pats over his body. “Agent Maotai, are you alright? Are you hurt? I heard the gunshot and I...”

His words trail away, his fingers tightening around Guang-Hong’s bicep as he tugs him into a bruising hug, the scent of cheap soap filling his nose, the rattling gasps for breath all too loud in his ear as he whispers, “I thought I lost you.”

Even with their closeness, Agent Cider’s words are barely audible but they punch the breath from Guang-Hong’s lungs nonetheless, the pistol dropping from his trembling hands as he reaches up to clutch at Agent Cider’s back. “Agent Cider, I’m fine! I’m safe but yah-!”

The bare skin exposed by his ripped jeans brushes against something wet, and he stiffens with a wince. “Um. Agent Cider?”

They turn their attention to the body as one and Guang-Hong gulps as the red beneath the man’s head continues to spread. “How soon can Ginger Ale send a cleanup crew?”

The grunts of the black-garbed figures of the cleanup crew fill the room as they maneuver the body bag out the window, and Guang-Hong screams internally at every squeak of the pulley as the bodies; both living and dead, begin their descent. “You know, um. You didn’t need to come out here yourself.”

Ginger Ale snorts, their fingers flying across the screen of their phone at a speed that makes Guang-Hong’s eyes ache. “Nonsense, Agent Maotai. As far as I know, you were completely undetected, and the USB comes with Bitters’ anti-tracking software, which begs the question: how on earth were they able to locate you so quickly?”

Agent Cider hums, scrubbing the last of the field blood remover from the carpet from his place beside Guang-Hong, his body pressed tightly against his from shoulder to hip. “Well this is the only place to stay in the area.” The corners of his mouth tighten, and he presses the cloth deeper into the carpet. “That would have narrowed it down.”

Lit eerily by the blue light of their device, Ginger Ale’s eyes grow cold, and Guang-Hong gulps as their lips thin into a narrow line. “It’s not like I can tell those secret societies to stop building their headquarters and base of operations in the middle of nowhere! Last time I tried, their leader cried so hard, his eyeshadow bled every-”

Ginger Ale’s phone chirps, cutting their rant off mid-sentence, and Guang-Hong lets out a shaky exhale as warmth returns to their eyes in the form of a soft smile.

“Be right back, Bitters is having trouble handling the proprietress apparently.”

Agent Cider arches an eyebrow as Ginger Ale slips out the door, the windows of the room swinging shut with a gentle _click_ as the last of the cleanup crew leaves as well. “Too pushy?”

Ginger Ale chuckles before his smile grows sly, “Same old, same old. Your transport’s waiting for you out back when you’re finished, by the way.”

Agent Cider nods, raising a finger to his Stenson. “Go rescue Bitters, before he remotely detonates a baseball to escape again.”

The door creaks shut to muffle Ginger Ale’s cackle, and Guang-Hong hums, “Did Bitters really do that once? I thought it was just something people did in movies?”  
Agent Cider chuckles, wiping his forehead with the back of his forearm, the remaining tightness in the corners of his mouth draining away, “You bet he did.”

They work in comfortable silence, spraying and scrubbing until the shot-sized field bottles can barely eke out the last droplets within them, their neckerchiefs soaked through and pink-tinged, and Guang-Hong is certain that they can see the deep brown of the floorboards faintly through the even thinner carpet as they slowly get to their feet. “Um, Agent Cider?”

“Yes, Agent Maotai?”

Guang-Hong sucks in a careful breath, gloved fingers picking at the stained fabric by his knee. “Out of curiosity, would that have counted as a mission failure? Is it going to go on my record?”

Agent Cider’s mouth drops open before he pulls Guang-Hong into a one-armed hug, and heat floods his face as lips press against his temple. “I’ve been meaning to say this ever since we got here; your first mission as an agent was a resounding success, and you deserve all the praise you’ll inevitably get.” The mouth curves up into a small smile. “Even with the assassin.”

“Agent Cider…”

The arm around him tightens. “And as your...fellow agent and your senior, please accept my apologies.”

Guang-Hong’s eyes widen. “W-What? But it wasn’t-”

“No, it wasn’t my fault, but there were things that I could have done to better ensure your safety. You...You could have _died_.”

Agent Cider’s voice cracks on the last word, and he burrows his face deeper into Guang-Hong’s hair. “You could have been hurt or been _killed_ and...and there were some things I could have done to-”

The rest of Agent Cider’s sentence dies in his mouth when Guang-Hong yanks his free hand to rest over his heart, his face heating further with the action as he pulls back to meet Agent Cider’s gaze. “Then you’ll just have to keep a closer eye on me next time, okay? That’s your job as my...mentor, right?”

Agent Cider’s eyes widen, “You-You’d still trust me like that? Even after...”

Guang-Hong huffs. “Of course I do! I mean, you still trust me even after I nearly shot you during that training exercise right?”

When Agent Cider’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, Guang-Hong narrows his eyes. “Wait, are you telling me that-”

Agent Cider chuckles, cutting off his words with a gentle pat of his chest. “I’d trust you with my life, Agent Cider, especially after tonight but it’s just...since when do you give such good advice?”

Guang-Hong giggles, throwing caution to the wind to press their foreheads together. “I learned it from the best after all.”

The hand on his chest slides down to clutch at his waist, and Agent Cider sighs, “I was so scared when I heard that gunshot.”

There’s only one response to that. “I’m still here, Agent Cider. And besides, you’ll look after me in the future, right?”

Agent Cider snorts, and Guang-Hong narrows his eyes at the dryness of the sound. “As your _mentor_, right?”

_He can’t possibly...oh._

His gulp is all too loud in the silence of the room, his fingers tightening around Agent Cider’s wrist as he whispers, “What do you mean by that?”

“Agent Maotai, I...care about you a lot as you’re probably aware, and tonight I realised…” Agent Cider clears his throat, and Guang-Hong sucks in a breath as he leans in closer, his heart racing in his chest when eyes linger at his mouth. “What if I don’t want to keep an eye on you as just your mentor?”

The words are whispered over his mouth, and Guang-Hong tilts his head up, his gaze dropping to Agent Cider’s lips. “Well, um. What exactly do you have in mind then?”

A calloused thumb presses gently at his chin, warm breath fanning over his mouth and Guang-Hong closes his eyes as wind-chapped lips press against his own, winding his arms around Agent Cider’s neck to yank him closer with a huff, his mouth already opening to lick at the seam of Agent Cider’s lips. Shivers runs down his spine when Agent Cider’s tongue _finally_ slides carefully against his own, the hand at his chin sliding to cup his nape, his breath escaping his lungs as a sigh when Agent Cider pulls away to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Any objections?”

Guang-Hong shakes his head, giggling when Agent Cider flicks at his nose, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as the same finger moves to brush against his cheekbone. “Now come on, Ginger Ale’s waiting. Plenty of time for self-reflection on the way back for both of us.”

Guang-Hong snorts, leaning in to press another quick kiss to Agent Cider’s lips, a hum slipping from his mouth as the hand at his waist pulls him closer. “I can’t wait to see what the future holds.”

Agent Cider laughs, the light pink dusting his cheekbones. “I’ll raise a toast to that.”

Guang-Hong arches an eyebrow. “May I suggest a drink?”

He shivers as a slow kiss is pressed to his ear. “Pick your poison, Agent.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
